


beautiful things

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Picnics, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre takes Courfeyrac on a surprise picnic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beautiful things

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon prompt that I got on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/).

“Come on, just tell me...”

Combeferre only smiled and kept staring straight ahead. Road safety and all that. Well, Courfeyrac wasn’t too concerned with road safety, especially because he knew that Combeferre was pretty good at multitasking and that he was perfectly capable of talking and driving at the same time.

“Please,” Courfeyrac said. He whipped out the puppy eyes, even though Combeferre still wasn’t looking at him. “Just tell me where we’re going.” Courfeyrac had been confused about where exactly they were headed pretty much once a day during the past week and he was starting to feel a bit silly.

 They were visiting Combeferre’s family, his grandparents, to be specific – not the ones from India, obviously. Anyway, there were also a bunch of cousins and his parents and his aunt. And even though Courfeyrac had a huge family and should be used to this, it was all a bit much. Because relatives asked a lot of question and cooked a lot of food and they’d gone to a lot of places because they thought they had to entertain Courfeyrac. He would have been perfectly content just sitting around on the patio with a piece of cake and, more importantly, Combeferre. But when they’d all said that they’d already made plans for them, Courfeyrac hadn’t wanted to say no.

When Combeferre had wrapped himself around Courfeyrac last night, nose tucked against the back of Courfeyrac’s neck, and had whispered, “How about we sneak out tomorrow, just the two of us,” Courfeyrac had been more than enthusiastic.

But he still didn’t know where Combeferre was taking him. “Please,” he said again.

“Five more minutes and you’ll know,” Combeferre said, briefly glancing over at him before his eyes were back on the road.

Courfeyrac looked out the window, wondering what could possibly be five minutes away from here. Because right now they were basically in the middle of nowhere. There were a few fields, a few houses scattered in between, a small forest, but nothing that seemed like a prime location to spend the day at.

“Please,” Courfeyrac tried one more time, snorting when Combeferre reached over to cover his mouth with his hand.

“Almost there,” Combeferre only said and pulled into a dirt road a moment later.

“Wait, am I about to become a murder victim,” Courfeyrac whispered. He made a face. “Or are you taking me hiking?”

Combeferre didn’t reply, but Courfeyrac could have sworn that he saw him roll his eyes. Fondly, of course. It had taken Courfeyrac a while to figure out that the eye-rolling was always fond. Well, maybe not _always_. Courfeyrac had been a bit touchy – no, he wasn’t going to use the word insecure ever – when they’d first got together and he’d been terrified of doing something wrong. Which was why he hadn’t been too happy about what he now knew had been fond eye-rolling.

Anyway. Combeferre was still in good humor, so Courfeyrac thought he could risk asking one more time. “Seriously, please tell me you’re not taking me hiking. I’m wearing flip-flops.”

“Don’t you think that I would have told you not to wear flip-flops if I was taking you hiking?”

“Good point,” Courfeyrac said casually, even though he was _so_ relieved that this wasn’t going to end with his feet bleeding and him crying. To be honest, he should have known that Combeferre loved him enough not to take him on a hiking trip. “So, where are we going?”

Combeferre once again didn’t reply, but pulled the car over behind a tree. “We’re there.”

“In...” Courfeyrac looked out the window, “a field?”

“Well, we’re _nearly_ there,” Combeferre said and got out of the car.

Courfeyrac did as well, although he was still mildly confused. He’d thought they’d go to a museum or to some super special antiques bookstore or some really fancy restaurant or something equally Combeferre-y.

Combeferre was now opening the trunk of the car, which was weird since Courfeyrac didn’t remember him putting anything in there. When he went to investigate, Combeferre wordlessly handed him a blanket before he pulled a picnic cooler and a backpack out of the trunk. “Combeferre...”

“Yes?” Combeferre said and slammed the trunk shut.

Courfeyrac was beaming at him. “We’re having a picnic.”

Combeferre held out his hand. “We are.”

“You really planned all of this?” Courfeyrac asked and took his hand, letting Combeferre tug him along. Courfeyrac didn’t even find it in himself to complain about having to crawl up a hill before they’d finally get to their destination because he was way too excited about this.

Courfeyrac stopped in his tracks when they’d reached the top of the hill. “Whoa.”

Combeferre patiently waited until Courfeyrac had taken a look around. He looked immensely pleased with himself. Well, he should be. Because he’d taken Courfeyrac straight to paradise. Down the slope of the hill was a stream, bubbling over a bunch of small waterfalls and there were wildflowers and a willow tree, branches rustling, moving slowly in the breeze.

“What do you think?” Combeferre asked lowly.

“It’s beautiful,” Courfeyrac said, slowly starting to move down the slope. “Is this were you used to take all your flings when you spent the summer here?”

That earned him another fond eye-roll. It was basically saying that Courfeyrac should know that he was the first one Combeferre had ever taken here. Courfeyrac’s stomach did a backflip, like it always did when he realized how ridiculously in love he was.

They made themselves comfortable in the shade of the willow and Combeferre started unpacking the cooler and the backpack, batting Courfeyrac’s hands away every time he tried to help him. “When did you even do all this?” Courfeyrac asked when he realized that Combeferre was insisting on doing all the work.

“This morning, mostly,” Combeferre said with a shrug. He was shrugging, like this wasn’t a big deal.

“This morning?” Courfeyrac was pretty sure that they’d spent all morning together. They’d had breakfast together, they’d taken a shower together, as difficult as that had been. In any case, he couldn’t imagine when Combeferre would have found the time to prepare this.

Combeferre kept digging up food. They’d never be able to eat all of this. “Before you got up this morning.”

“I got up at eight,” Courfeyrac said, narrowing his eyes. “And you were still in bed with me.”

“Well, yeah, I just went back to bed after I made all the food.” Combeferre grinned. “And I had a little help from my grandma.”

“Aha,” Courfeyrac said and picked up one of the Tupperware containers. “I thought this looked a lot like your grandma’s quiche.” He sighed happily. “I love your grandma’s quiche.”

“I know you do,” Combeferre said and handed him a fork, then he poured him some wine. He’d even brought wine. Seriously, Courfeyrac had somehow ended up with the best boyfriend of all time.

Courfeyrac took a bite and let out an obscene groan. He just couldn’t help himself. “This is so good, I love you so much.”

Combeferre laughed quietly. “I know you do,” he said again and picked up one of the sandwiches.

There really was a lot of food and Courfeyrac found himself abandoning the quiche in favor of taking a look at the pasta salad and the pound cake and the chocolate, but was distracted when Combeferre licked his fingers. Combeferre shouldn’t be allowed to lick his fingers. Ever.

Combeferre seemed to have noticed that he was staring at him. His lips twitched. “Do you want a sandwich too?”

Courfeyrac thought about it for a moment, really, he did consider the sandwich, but in the end he just scooted a little closer to Combeferre. “Not right now,” he muttered and leaned in to give Combeferre a kiss. It was supposed to be a quick one, they had all day to kiss, but by now Courfeyrac should know that there was no such thing as a quick kiss with Combeferre. And that wasn’t necessarily Combeferre’s fault. It was Courfeyrac who usually found it rather hard to pull away again.

Combeferre smiled against his lips, planted a kiss at the corner of his mouth, on his cheek. Courfeyrac let out a happy hum and buried his face in the crook of Combeferre’s neck. “Can you give me some of that cake?” Courfeyrac mumbled against his skin.

“Sit up,” Combeferre said and gave Courfeyrac a nudge.

But sitting up was the opposite of what Courfeyrac wanted to do, so he groaned and nuzzled at Combeferre’s neck. “Nah, I think I’ll have that cake later.”

Combeferre’s fingers slowly wandered up his spine, then down again, then Combeferre kissed the top of his head. “You know, I am sort of hungry.”

Courfeyrac gasped. “Really, you’re choosing food over me?” He sat up, sticking out his bottom lip. “I don’t think I can forgive you,” Courfeyrac whispered and finally took a piece of that cake.

This time Combeferre didn’t roll his eyes, he just smirked and helped himself to some quiche.

Combeferre’s idea to eat first and make out afterwards actually hadn’t been a bad one, because after they’d put the leftover food back into the cooler, they had a lot more space to stretch. Courfeyrac took the opportunity to crawl on top of Combeferre, his head on Combeferre’s chest. He was an excellent pillow, a bit too bony maybe, but Courfeyrac hardly noticed.

Combeferre was playing with his hair and the sun was shining down on them through the branches of the willow tree, tickling Courfeyrac’s skin. Combeferre’s fingers eventually stilled. Courfeyrac did his best not to move, but he’d always had trouble keeping still.

“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac whispered, “how cold is that stream?”

“Hm, not sure.” Combeferre’s voice sounded sleepy. “But feel free to give it a try, I’m not going anywhere.”

Courfeyrac had no doubt that Combeferre wasn’t going anywhere; he looked way too comfortable right where he was. Courfeyrac propped himself up on his hands and knees, pressed a kiss to Combeferre’s jaw and then wandered over to the stream. He kicked off his flip-flops and dipped a foot inside. The water was freezing cold and he couldn’t help but let out a loud squeal. He heard Combeferre chuckle.

“Not funny,” Courfeyrac said loudly. He waded into the water, but he didn’t stay in there too long because he soon couldn’t feel his toes anymore.

Combeferre seemed to have fallen asleep in the few minutes in which Courfeyrac had thought he had to prove that he wasn’t in fact a wimp who was scared of a bit of cold water. Courfeyrac was rather disappointed that Combeferre hadn’t witnessed his quite heroic deed.

On the way back over to their blanket, Courfeyrac plucked a bunch of wildflowers that he tried to make a flower crown with. He was only moderately successful and just ended up scattering the flowers all over their picnic blanket. And Combeferre.

Combeferre snored quietly, scrunched up his nose, but didn’t wake up just yet. Courfeyrac watched spots of sunlight dance on Combeferre’s skin, watched the rise and fall of Combeferre’s chest, watched his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. Combeferre had exceptional eyelashes, nice and long, and– Right, Courfeyrac needed to stop, he was being ridiculous, but Combeferre was just so lovely to look at. He was the most beautiful thing that Courfeyrac had ever laid eyes on. Courfeyrac would have loved to reach out and maybe run his fingers through his hair. It had grown out over the summer and, well, Courfeyrac counted himself as a fan of this shaggy-haired version of Combeferre.

“It’s suspiciously quiet,” Combeferre mumbled after a while. He sighed. “What’re you doing?”

“Just sitting here,” Courfeyrac said, fingers slowly wandering up Combeferre’s arm, “minding my own business. Waiting for you to stop sleeping.”

Combeferre cracked an eye open. He had beautiful eyes, too. It was a bit unfair, actually. “Were you staring at me?”

“I tried to keep myself busy.” Courfeyrac tucked one of the flowers behind Combeferre’s ear. “You’re not _that_ entertaining when you’re just snoring, though.”

“You could have just woken me up.”

“Nah, you look so cute when you’re sleeping,” Courfeyrac said and booped Combeferre’s nose.

Combeferre smiled lazily and stretched, then he pulled Courfeyrac against him. “Well, you have my full attention now.”

“Good,” Courfeyrac said and kissed him. That would surely keep him entertained for a while.  


End file.
